Mark Dudlik

I’d talk about my social anxiety again here for a bit. I’m doing this for a few reasons:

The first is that I don’t think people truly understand exactly what happens to my body, mind and ability to function when I’m having a full blown attack. It’s so so much more than being nervous or uncomfortable around people. Its not being socially awkward, its not being afraid of people.

The second reason is perhaps more important. When I first started realizing what was happening to me, I was lucky enough to meet someone who I could talk to about these things, who discovered his condition later in life and wanted to help me wrap my head around, at an earlier age, what is most likely a life-long condition I’ll always have to manage. (I am forever grateful for his support.) I hope I can do the same with this conversation for others.

A lot of people were surprised by the amount of things I have gone to this past month. Not a single one of those were easy for me, and given the choice I would’ve most likely ignored my inner voice and stayed home (even for design week) because of the possibility of my panic attacks occurring.

Because of how quickly all of my panic happens, its hard to get a grasp of the order and exactness of it, but here is a fair try, based on the fresh memory of my anxiety before my flight to New York.

When I start to have an attack, my body very quickly tenses up. My tongue feels like its dry and swelling up in my mouth, I have trouble swallowing. My throat closes, my hands start to shake. I feel like I’m choking. I get nauseous, sometimes to the point of actually vomiting. Something in me kicks into flee mode, and I look around for an escape, the safety of a bathroom stall, a secluded room, outside, inside, anywhere but where I am right then. Everything about my body becomes a problem, everything about my head loses its ability to rationalize that I am safe. I just choke, and white knuckled grip whatever I can, the blood rushes from my face, then back, then stops all together, I radiate discomfort and heat. I want to cry and call my mom or run away towards my home. Unfortunately, it often happens in places like car rides, the middle of conversations, while I’m eating, while I’m at work, while I’m anywhere but a few of my safe zones.

That’s the thing I think people don’t understand the most. Anything or more accurately, everything, can be a spark towards my irrational panic. I can’t turn it off, its not mind over matter, and its not my comfort around any particular people. It can happen when I’m alone in my apartment with my dog, or NOT happen when I’m at the NFC championship game. There is no rubric of what will or wont make me react.

So, for the most part, I avoid putting myself in the position where it might be a problem. I’m a strange mix of introversion and extroversion. I don’t often go out, I like living in my head, thinking of things to create, but when I go out, I am generally a good time. But, ever since this instant choking nausea social anxiety started I find myself secluded within my mind.

Whats happened since all of my attempts to overcome this shit and support my friends and people who are doing great things is the “Well, you seem to be doing okay” comments. I wish I was, and I wish I could say things are getting better, but its really just that I’ve been forcing myself more and more to deal with it. Its not easy, and it has gotten really really draining. Since mid October, I’ve been running full steam, (and have no regrets about doing so.)

I guess I just want to talk about these things in hopes that it will give other people the forum for their own struggles. I’m not looking to do anything differently or be treated any differently, just shed light on what happens in the same way I’d share a case study on a logo I’ve designed.

So there you have it: I freak out, wanna puke and choke and I have some nice meds that make it all okay.

But, and this is very important: they do not make me like you. I still hate people.

I want to talk about my social anxiety disorder. I know I’ve made jokes and constantly kid around about it, but its gotten to the point where doctors have pretty much stopped trying to see if something is wrong with my stomach and resigned themselves to the fact that its something in my mental workup thats making me feel nauseous for inexplicable reasons, at inexplicable times, but especially under stress and around people.